Sam's Hell
by wianea03
Summary: After Dean goes to hell Sam finds out that he is more connected to his brother then he thought. AU after season 3.
1. Chapter 1

*AU, starts after season 3, so slight spoilers for that.

*All mistakes are mine and mine alone. I don't own anything.

Sam didn't save Dean from going to hell, and that was something he had to live with, for the rest of his life. Dean had been able to save him, after only a few days Dean had brought Sam back to life with the just the simple cost of his soul. Sam tried for a whole year to get Dean out of his deal and in the end, he failed him. He had to watch, as his big brother was ripped to shreds right in front of him, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Tears fell from his eyes as he held the cold, dead body of Dean, the one person he could always count on. Dean was dead and it was all his fault. He couldn't save his brother, like his brother had saved him, so many times.

The first 24 hours after Dean died was a blur. He was numb and distant. Bobby was there, being the strong one, taking care of Sam in a way that should have only be Dean's job. Sam was exhausted but he couldn't sleep, not when Dean was in hell. It felt like a piece of him had been ripped out, torn from his body with sharp claws that made him bleed and broken. When the sun finally made its appearance on the second day Bobby shoved Sam down and told him to shut his eyes, they'd decide what to do in the morning.

Sam shut his eyes as instructed and would have surprised himself at how easily sleep came if only he was conscious long enough to realize it. No sooner had Sam closed his eyes when he was thrown into a dark world of pain. _He was suspended high above a black moving pit. The smell of burning flesh and sulfur came from below and seemed to wrap itself around him. He could feel, with each small movement the sharp metal of the hooks that had sliced through his skin and was now the only thing keeping him from plunging into that massive black hole. He could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he kept screaming one name over and over. If it hadn't been for the pain and terror he felt Sam might have been confused why it was his name he was yelling, instead of Dean's. _

The dream was a fleeting memory by the time Sam woke hours later. He sat up in bed, the last remnants of the dream fading away until all that was left was the nagging feeling in the back of his head that something was wrong. He shook his head, trying to clear it and looked around. Bobby must have been out, most likely getting food because Sam couldn't remember the last time he ate.

Fifteen minutes later, after a hot shower that didn't do much good except get him cleaned, Bobby came walking in, carrying two white paper bags. He set them down on the table, and looked at Sam. "You should eat something," he said. Sam sat down, but made no move to open the bags. He looked out the window, not really seeing anything and whispered, "I'm not hungry." Bobby sat down also, glancing at Sam, "Yea, I figured as much. Doesn't mean you shouldn't keep up your strength though."

Sam ignored him and he heard Bobby sigh. It was a tense few moments before Bobby cleared his throat before speaking, "Sam, we need to start thinking about getting De-"

"No," Sam's sharp tone made Bobby freeze for a moment. "Sam-"

"We are not burning him," Sam's tone left no room for argument. "I'm going to bury him. He needs a body when-", he cut off but Bobby could fill in the blanks just fine, and he didn't like where this was headed. There wasn't much he could do about it. Winchesters were a stubborn bunch and Sam could easily stop Bobby if he wanted to. Even if Bobby was like family to him, at the moment Sam would do just about anything to get his brother back.

They buried Dean in the middle of the woods, using a makeshift cross as a marker. There were no words spoken, not even glances at each other. Despite grieving Dean as well, Bobby couldn't imagine what Sam was going through. He would watch out for the kid as much as he could, but he wasn't all that surprised when, after burying Dean, Sam said a quick good bye, promising he'd call and left. Bobby was left alone, staring as the last remaining Winchester drove off down the road, no real destination in mind.

Sam knew it was smart to stay with Bobby, but he couldn't do it. He needed time and he needed to know that someone wasn't there trying to stop him. He had driven for a few hours when he saw a sign for a liquor store. He pulled in, knowing that at least for tonight, he'd get drunk enough that he wouldn't feel much at all. He was going to get his brother out of hell, if it was the last thing he did. He would visit every cross road in the country if he had to and kill as many demons at it took. And if he couldn't, that bitch Lilith was going to pay. He wouldn't stop until she was dead. It didn't matter how reckless he was, he didn't have anything left to live for anyway.

Sam pulled into the first motel that looked like it wouldn't ask questions, got a room and started drinking. A few hours later he was long past drunk and on the verge of passing out. He had had enough sense to lay down salt before he started and enough smarts, even when plastered, to remain inside and stop when the booze ran out. He flopped back on the bed, not even bothering with taking off his clothes and seconds later was unconscious.

The dream was much the same as the first one. _Sam was no longer suspended, the hooks ripped free from his skin. Instead he was in a free fall, getting closer and closer to that black pit. There was nothing to stop his fall, and even though it didn't look like he was getting any closer he knew he was. The smells were stronger, seeming to seep into his skin. He was also starting to hear the distinct sounds of screams; thousands of voices coming together, getting gradually louder as he plummeted down. The feeling of fear overwhelmed him, made him want to crawl out of his skin. He had no clue what awaited him down there, but he knew, without a doubt, he didn't want to find out._

Sam woke up panting, his heart racing and his hair clinging to his sweat soaked face. He could remember the dream more now; see fleeting images if he closed his eyes. He blinked against the sun streaming through the crack in the curtains, telling himself it was just a dream. It made sense, with what happened the last few days and the amount of drinking he did. He got out of bed slowly, trying to stem the wave of nausea he felt and the dizziness. He staggered a little on his feet, grabbing the end table for balance. For a moment there it almost felt like he had been falling. He shook his head, quickly stopping when the pounding in his head protested the movement.

He made it to the bathroom before the meager contents of his stomach made an appearance. The dream was quickly fading, the images being erased in his brain. He started the shower and shed his clothes. By the time the pounding water was beating down on his back the dream was forgotten, the only evidence it had occurred was the small feeling of fear Sam felt in the far corners of his mind.

_**Thanks for reading! **_


	2. Chapter 2

*As always I own nothing and all mistakes are mine.

*Warning, there is some torture in this chapter, and probably later chapters as well.

Over the next week the nightmares just got worse, if not for the simple fact that each time it was harder and harder to get rid of the images left over in his brain once morning came. Each morning Sam vowed that he would stop drinking, certain that it was his alcohol riddled brain that was the reason for his vivid dreams. But like clockwork, once the pounding headache subsided and the nausea passed and the images had faded to just outlines on the edges of his vision, reality hit; hard. Dean was gone and it was all Sam's fault. He hadn't saved his brother, he had failed him in the worst way possible and now Dean was in hell, suffering in ways Sam couldn't even imagine. So Sam, once again started drinking and at night, in an alcohol induced slumber the dreams came.

_He was strapped down, so tight he could hardly move. He couldn't see much, shadows in the darkness that seemed to move closer before disappearing. There was one that was clearer than all the rest. One shadow that seemed to take shape but each time he tried to see its face, there was nothing. It was this nameless shape that caused him so much pain. Caused him to scream in agony, caused him to bleed and break and sob and beg for it to stop. It seemed to last forever until it stopped, and suddenly he was whole again. He could still smell his burning flesh, still taste his blood, still feel his broken bones but he was whole once again. Each time he was put back together the nameless shadow would lean in close, the blackness close to the side of his face and whisper a promise in his ear, "Join me and all this will stop. Join me." And each night, right before the dream would end, he would whisper, in a broken voice one word, "No."_

Sam had went to a cross roads, drunk out of his mind, hoping and praying they would take him. Take him and bring back Dean. He begged and pleaded but in the end, much to his disappointment he walked away with his soul intact. He called Bobby after that and Bobby sound relieved that Sam was still alive. Sam grunted into his bottle, _at least one of us is. _He swallowed the words, along with a mouthful of booze, before they escaped; sure that Bobby wouldn't appreciate them.

Bobby hesitated a moment before cautiously saying, "Sam, you should come back."

Sam shook his head, the movement making him dizzy and he was grateful he was sitting down. "No Bobby, I'm going to hunt down every demon I can and find Lilith. I'm not gonna stop until she's dead."

"Sam, I don't think that Dean would want-"

"Dean's not here," Sam shouted back, not caring if he hurt Bobby or not. It didn't matter, nothing mattered except that Dean was gone, in hell and it was Sam's fault.

"I know he's not, but-"

"If I can't bring Dean back, I'm going after Lilith," Sam said. He didn't wait for an answer, just hung up, turning his phone off so he wouldn't have to hear if Bobby tried calling again. He finished the bottle in his hand in three long swallows, the burn welcoming and expected. He threw the empty bottle to the floor and sank back on the bed, his eyes closing against the fog in his brain.

_His scream was loud and pain filled, but the shadow just laughed. His face was getting clearer and it scared him. Long claws ripped open his chest, making his flesh like shredded tissue paper. Blood poured from his mouth as the claws ripped through his lungs, making it hard to breath, but not killing him, never killing him. He would never die here, no matter how many times he prayed for it. The claws slashed through his lower abdomen, bringing out bits of stomach and intestines to the floor. His screams getting louder with each pass. They kept going deeper and deeper, cutting through his rib bones, until he heard the scratch of claws against wood. They had reached the rack he was now currently strapped onto. The shadow ran a claw down his face, in an almost loving gesture, a thin line of blood following, "Oh Dean, it's so nice to hear you scream," the shadow murmured. He could almost make out a smile at what he guessed was the shadow's face before the claws made one sweep across just below his chin. Blood poured like a fountain from his throat, the wound so deep it had to be almost to his spinal cord. He choked on his blood, but was denied the pleasure of passing out or the death that would have followed had it been made when he was on earth. He was left, choking on the thick liquid for what seemed like days before he was made whole once again and the same offer laid out for him. "Join me and this will all end. Join me." "No."_

Sam sat up fast, sweat drops beading his forehead. He looked around wildly, half expecting black shadows to come creeping up. He placed a hand to his chest, wincing when he felt the phantom pain of shredded skin. He lifted up his t-shirt, half expecting to see blood and guts but all he saw was the smooth skin of his stomach. He closed his eyes, remembering the pain of the sharp claws in his chest, the taste of blood on his tongue. His hangover was momentarily put on hold as the fear and terror of his nightmare took all thought from him mind. He put his head in his hands, trying to breathe through the memories of what his dream showed him.

As it slowly faded from his mind, one thing stood out. The shadow had called him Dean. He had thought the dreams were a result of the drinking and the grief of losing his brother, but what if they were something more? What if, somehow they were Dean's memories, or rather what Dean was going through? Sam laughed, despite the growing headache that was sneaking up on him, that was impossible. He couldn't know what Dean was going through, Dean was in hell and Sam was here, alone.

As the hangover grew, the headache coming strong and his stomach churning the last images of the dream faded into the back corners of his mind. All that he was left with was the pain that was still lingering in his chest. He rubbed at it absently, as he got out pain meds and washed them down with a swing of whiskey. He started the shower and climbed in, the hot water washing away the last of the dream and making his aching body feel at least somewhat human.

**Thanks for reading! Thanks for those who reviewed and for every one following this story! You make me want to write more.**


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two weeks now since Dean went to hell and Sam was no more sober then he was last week. The pain was still fresh as ever and he knew it wasn't going to go away anytime soon. He hadn't talked to Bobby since the failed cross roads incident, but he knew Bobby would just try to stop him. He was going to hunt down every demon he could until he found one that knew were Lilith was and then he would go for her. He knew it was reckless and stupid to go into a demon hunt drunk, and if Dean was here he'd kick his ass. But Dean wasn't here and that was the problem.

The nightmares hadn't stopped, were getting more vivid and harder to forget each night. Each morning he would wake up with sweat pouring down his face, the images of the dream still fresh and vivid in his memory. The concept of the dreams were the same, strapped on a rack, tortured and when it was finally all done, right before he woke up, the same question would be asked. He would always give the same answer. Each morning it was getting harder and harder to shake the memories of the dreams and harder to forget the pain his body woke up with. He tried to ignore the feeling that these were more than just dreams but each day it got harder and harder.

The demon had been hard to trap, harder than it would have been if he had a partner or hell, if he had been sober. Things had started off okay. He had gotten what he needed to trap the demon and went to work. Getting the demon into the trap Sam had drawn proved a little more difficult than he anticipated. In the end though, despite a few more bruises then necessary, the demon was finally tied down on a chair in the middle of the devil's trap. He tried to get it to talk, but either it was a master at hiding things or it really didn't know anything about Lilith and where she was. Sam read the exorcism with practiced ease, even if some of the words slurred together. The male body it had been using was dead, probably had been for a while.

Sam knew it was mostly luck that had gotten him out of this alive. His reflexes were slowed and his mind was fixed on one thing, revenge for Dean. To celebrate he headed for the nearest bar and drank until the bartender cut him off. He stumbled back to his room, where he knew he had a half open bottle of something waiting for him. He managed to get his shoes off before he collapsed on the bed, turning over before closing his eyes.

_His fingers were gone, burned off one by one until all that was left were stubs. The shadow, which had a man's face now, complete and whole, was using a large pair of scissors to cut off his toes. It would pause after each one, seeming to savor his screams of pain. After the toes were gone, it dropped the scissors and in its hands appeared a saw. The shadow smiled as it looked down at him and started sawing off his hands, using long and slow strokes. He could feel each pull of the blade, first going through skin, then muscle, then bone. The shadow laughed, holding up his hand, before tossing the severed appendage over his shoulder and making its way around. The second seemed to take longer, the shadow going slower than before. It started sawing off his feet next, humming a tune he did not recognize. He wanted to pass out, get away from this but he couldn't. It seemed to last forever before finally all that was left was a torso and head. The arms had been the worst; the shadow had gripped them tight and pulled, ripping them clean off at the shoulders. Tears were streaming down his face and the shadow with the man's face leaned in close, licking a tear trailing down his cheek. "Join me Dean, and all this will end. Join me." He took a shaking breath and said the one word he knew he had to say, "No."_

Sam woke up, his limbs aching and sensitive, like they had fallen asleep. He looked around before looking down at his hands and feet, drinking in the sight of his fingers and toes. He counted them twice before flexing them, the tingling feeling slowly going away. His shoulders ached; sore like had been pulled tight. Sam closed his eyes, images flashing through his mind. They seemed so real but they couldn't be, they were just dreams, right?

Over the next couple of nights Sam started to believe that the nightmares each night were more than just dreams. He hadn't wanted to believe it; he hadn't wanted to believe that that was what Dean was going through. That Dean was suffering that much and it was because he had sold himself to save Sam. He had called Bobby, the only one he could think to call, asking if Bobby heard of anything about people sharing memories. He didn't tell Bobby that it was him he was asking about and Bobby said he would check into it and contact Sam as soon as he knew something.

About a month after Dean had went to hell Ruby showed up. Sam knew he should be grateful, she had saved his life. Drunk out of his mind and fighting a demon she had showed up. He was prepared to die, if it worked out that way. He wasn't afraid, but she had come and saved him. Maybe it wasn't his time, and at that he had started laughing. He was still laughing softly as Ruby led him to his room and he was too out of it to ask how she knew where he was staying. A glass of water was shoved in his hand, two pills followed. He popped them in his mouth and drained the glass. He rubbed his temples, the alcohol still fogging his brain. He glanced up and saw Ruby; or rather the poor girl Ruby was riding, standing over him.

"Sam, what the hell were you thinking?" Ruby said her hands on her hips.

Sam let out a humorless chuckled, thinking? He tried not to think at all nowadays.

"Why are you here?" he asked instead, looking around for something to drink. Ruby noticed the motion and looked around, grabbing the half empty bottle before Sam could reach for it. Sam sighed and gave up, too tired to care at the moment.

"I'm here to help you find Lilith, heard you were looking for her. If you want to kill her Sam you need help."

Sam looked uncertain, yea he needed help, but did he want Ruby's help? Ruby was a demon, a demon just like the one that was torturing Dean, torturing Sam every night when he closed his eyes. He shook his head, "I don't want your help."

Ruby sighed, "You might not want it, but you need it. Look at you Sam; you're drunk all the time, you're reckless on hunts. One of these times you're gonna mess up so bad that nobody's going to be able to save you." She looked almost genuine, like she really cared about Sam. "First thing Sam, you need to sober up. After that I can help. I can make you strong Sam, strong enough to take Lilith."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of Lilith," Sam spat out, knowing it was a lie. Ruby saw right through it, as she shook her head sadly, "Yea, you can't even take care of a low level demon by yourself, let alone a powerful one like Lilith."

Sam stood up, hoping his height would have some advantage on him, but the way he swayed to the side kind of defeated the purpose. "I don't want your help Ruby so just leave." He tried remaining upright, but the room was spinning and the sudden appearance of two Rubys made him fall back down hard on the edge of the bed.

"Sleep this off Sam, maybe in the morning you'll see that I'm right," Ruby said before going to the door taking the bottle of alcohol with her. She paused a moment looking back at Sam before opening the door and disappearing into the hallway.

Sam flopped back on the bed, trying not to think how right she was. He would never be able to fight Lilith like this. He was a mess. He had been prepared to die and if that happened, where would Dean be? Dean's death would be for nothing, he would have died for Sam and Sam would have just screwed up once again. Would he be able to accept help from a demon though? The only reason he listened to her that first night was because she said she could help Dean, save him from going to hell. But he was there anyway. Sam rolled over on his side, burying his head in his pillow. He was too drunk to think about this now. He closed his eyes and prayed, not for the first time to have a dreamless sleep.

_The flames rose higher, so high he couldn't see above them anymore. He was off the rack, instead tied to a pole, a circle of flames around him, burning him alive. The flesh was dripping from his bones, the flames eating through muscle and tissue. His legs were gone, the flames eating up his abdomen now. He could feel the edges of the fire licking his face and he strained his neck up, trying to get away, but it was no use. He had nowhere to go. The shadow, which wasn't even a shadow anymore, appeared beside him, the fire having no affect on him. He leaned in close, like always, whispering right in his ear. "Join me and you'll be free of this. Join me." He swallowed hard and through clenched teeth ground out, "No."_

**Thank you all for reading and those who reviewed. Sorry this got out so late, I told myself I'd update every couple days but this took me almost a week. **_  
><em>


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke with the smell of burning flesh in his nose. His body felt like it was on fire and he started coughing, feeling as if his lungs weren't getting enough air. After a few moments it was easier to breath and he got up, heading into the bathroom. He ran a cold shower and got in. Every time he closed his eyes the memory of seeing flames danced behind the back of his eyelids. He could still feel the flames eating away at his flesh, the terror of not being able to pass out and knowing that he was slowing roasting to death. He knew then that these were more than just nightmares. No matter what Bobby found, somehow he was sharing whatever Dean was going through. Of course, he thought bitterly, Dean was going through that constantly, Sam just dreamed about it. He was able to wake up and drink the memories away. Not Dean. He had to live through them day after day, never taking a rest, never being able to escape the pain and terror, the horror of hell. And damn if that didn't make Sam want to drink more.

He got out of the shower and started dressing when a knock came at the door. He grabbed the demon killing knife, hiding it in his back pocket before reaching out to open the door. He was surprised at who would be here and it wasn't until he opened the door and saw Ruby that he remembered last night. The details were blurry, but he vaguely remembers Ruby taking the last of his liquor.

"Well, at least you look human this morning Sam," Ruby stated, before making her way inside. Sam was stunned for a moment, letting her pass. She winkled her nose as she stepped fully in the room, taking in the rumpled bed sheets and dirty clothes and towels on the floor. Sam closed the door and turned, looking at her. It was weird, seeing Ruby like this, when he was so used to a blonde. She turned on her heel and studied Sam. "You sober today?"

Sam narrowed his eyes and glared, "Somebody took my liquor."

Ruby laughed at that, and Sam imaged shoving something sharp and shining deep in her heart. She grew serious and said, "Did you think about my offer yet?"

"I don't need your help," he said, putting as much conviction as possible. It sound good today, he wasn't slurring and his voice was deep, commanding. Ruby sighed, looking at Sam as if he was a slow child, "Yes, you do."

Sam shook his head as moved about the room, picking up his various weapons he kept hidden on his body. "I don't need help, especially from a demon."

Several thoughts went through his head at once as the realization came crashing into him the Ruby was, in fact a demon. He promised himself he was going to hunt down as many demons as it took to take down Lilith, but what if it only took one? But demons lied and she had lied about knowing how to save Dean. Demons were from hell, a place Dean was at right now, being tortured constantly by a black shadow. Who tortured souls in hell? Sam thought he knew the answer to that question, demons.

"Why do you want Lilith dead?" Sam questioned, gathering his wallet and checking to make sure he had enough cash before he made a stop at the local liquor store.

"Because Sam, I'm on your side here. I thought you would have known that by now. I'm trying to help you here," Ruby said, a little annoyed.

Sam glanced at her, "Like you helped Dean get out of his deal?" His voice had gotten cold and he suddenly thought of Dean, in hell, being tortured by a faceless demon, being ripped apart over and over again and just like that it wasn't Dean being tortured.

_His weapon of choice tonight was a red hot poker. It never had to be reheated, in fact if anything it got hotter. First he pressed the tip in the middle of his palm and slowly pressed harder, until there was a hole burned through clear to the wood beneath him. His hand twitched and his fingers danced on their own. He burned patterns up and down his legs, humming again, listening to his screams and pleas to stop. He slashed through his stomach, and reached one bony hand in to pull out his intestines. Once they were out, lying on his chest, he used the poker and twirled them around like spaghetti, yanking them free of him. He casually flung them to the side before continuing. He smiled down at him, the shadow finally whole. His teeth were stained yellow and his eyes were cruel. That was the last thing he saw before the poker dug into his eyes. _

"Sam! Sam! Hey, snap out of it!" Ruby shaking his shoulders had him brought back to the present. He was kneeling on a dirty motel carpet, Ruby standing over him, her hands on his shoulders. He was breathing hard, this had been worse than any vision he had ever had. He brought a shaking hand to his stomach, making sure that it was smooth and whole, then to his eyes. He could still feel the poker, digging in and making him bleed. Ruby was talking to him but he couldn't make out the words. He looked up and she took a step back. Her mouth was moving, forming words that he couldn't comprehend at the moment. He was shaking and he couldn't imagine what he looked like.

It took a few moments before he calmed down enough where he could get up on his own and hear what Ruby was saying. He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the edge of the bed. A glass of water was shoved in his hands and he drank greedily. "What the hell happened Sam?" Ruby demanded. If he looked close enough, she almost seemed worried about him.

He didn't answer, instead closed his eyes, quickly realizing this was a bad idea. He opened them and looked around, taking in the bad wallpaper and musty carpet. This was real, this was where he was, not hell. It was bad enough getting nightmares, but now they were happening when he was awake? A hand on his arm startled him out of his thoughts. He flinched back and Ruby stepped back, giving him a curious look. "Don't touch me!" Sam spat out.

He got up and Ruby moved back farther. He moved towards her and she backed up until she hit the wall. He swore he saw fear in her eyes. He moved closer until he was inches from her, "How many?" he asked. She frowned in confusion and tried moving past him, opening her mouth but Sam shoved her back and continued. "How many did you torture?" Ruby's eyes widen and Sam moved back a fraction.

"You're a demon, right? How many did you torture and rip apart?" Sam was angry and right now Ruby was the one who was here. Ruby was a demon, and in the end all demons were the same. He reached behind him and before she knew what was coming Sam had the knife out and in her chest, hilt deep. She had one moment to be surprised before the knife did its job and she was dead. Her body hung limp from the knife that was still in Sam's grip and when he finally let go she crumbled in a heap.

He moved back slowly, sinking to his knees. He didn't necessarily feel bad about killing Ruby, she was a demon, but Ruby had saved his life. And what if she wasn't lying? What if she was willing to help and he had just killed the only thing that could help defeat Lilith? He never could have trusted her, not fully but if she could have helped... Sam laughed; he was actually thinking that it had been a bad thing to kill a demon. For the past month he had been drinking nonstop, vowing he would make Lilith pay, getting lucky on hunts, barely making it out alive sometimes and the one hunt he probably would have died, she had saved him. Said she could help with Lilith and who better knows a demon, then another demon and what did Sam do? Killed her.

His laughter turned slowly into sobs as his chest shook and his vision clouded in tears. For the first time since the hellhounds dragged Dean away Sam cried.

**Thanks so much for reading! **


	5. Chapter 5

It had been over two weeks now since he had killed Ruby and things weren't much better. He was no closer to Lilith then he had been since the beginning. The nightmares were just as bad, if not worst and he had had a few more while he was awake. Those were the worst. They would hit without warning and he would crash back to reality just as hard. It was also getting harder and harder to shake off the dreams, the images stuck in his brain without an escape. Drinking didn't help anymore so he found he was doing less and less of it. He just wanted to forget everything and he couldn't even do that anymore.

Bobby had contacted him but he didn't have anything that would help Sam figure out why he was having these visions, or whatever they were. He knew Bobby was worried, from the tone of his voice that much was clear.

"You know you can always come back here," Bobby said, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Sam sighed, closing his eyes, "Yeah, I know."

There was a pause, then Bobby cleared his throat, "So what exactly are you working on that you need to know about sharing memories? Sorry I couldn't be much help, but I've never heard of anything like it and apparently neither has most people."

"That's okay, figured you'd be the person to go to. It was just something I came across but it turned out to be nothing. Thanks anyway."

"Anytime Sam, you know I'm here." Bobby sound weary and it hit Sam that Bobby had lost someone too.

"Yeah, um, maybe I'll come by sometime," Sam said, hoping it wasn't a lie, but knowing that chances were good he wouldn't be stepping foot at Bobby's anytime in the near future.

Bobby seemed to know it too, "You're always welcome, no matter what."

_The knife glinted in the fire, the flames reflecting off the surface. He went slowly, making sure he felt everything, that he didn't miss a thing. He had started right below his chin, a small nick before pushing the knife in deep and cutting down. The knife sliced a cut clean down his chest right to the top of his groin before it stopped. He threw the knife down before using his hands to spread his skin apart, exposing his insides. The demon's voice was like honey, smooth and not at all concerned with the screaming that drowned it out. He pulled out each organ, showing it to him, telling him what it was before tossing it to the ground. When his insides were cleaned out the demon smiled, "Well, I better put you back together." He leaned down, picked up a discarded organ and stuck it back inside. He continued doing this until all the organs were back inside. He pushed the skin back together and bent over his broken body. He held up a needle and thread, "I can't have anything falling out now can I?" His screams seemed louder as the demon proceeded to stitch him back up. When he was all finished he leaned in close, his breath hot on his skin. "Join me and this will end." He rasped out, his voice hoarse from screaming, "No."_

It had been over two months now since Dean was dragged to hell and he was getting at least one vision, if not more, during the day. There was no trigger and no warning. He avoided going out as much as possible, he had come to a few times in the middle of a diner, a concerned waitress hovering over him. He found himself jumping at loud noises, feeling too crowded around other people. He felt like some trauma patient that was being reintroduced to society. But in a way he was, every day and night he was being tortured, and then he'd have to go out and pretend everything was okay, just to go through the same thing again. It was an endless cycle.

More than once he had thoughts that made his stomach churn with guilt and wish drinking still made the images go away. He wished he could control himself in the dreams because lately at the end of each one for a second he wanted to say yes, just to end this. And he knew it was selfish because this was Dean going through this, every day, every hour and he kept saying no. Sam was just getting a front row seat; he shouldn't have any say in the matter.

Sam decided to go to Bobby's. He figured it'd be the safest place for him and if there was anybody he trusted it was Bobby. The drive took longer than normal, but Sam stopped far more then he would have before. He never had a two visions right in a row so far, so as soon as one hit, he would start driving.

Bobby took one look at him and knew something was wrong. He pushed Sam inside, led him to the couch and placed a cup of coffee in his hands. Sam sipped the warm liquid, feeling better already by being some place familiar. Bobby was quiet, watching him but Sam knew he was curious. He waited until Sam was half way done before asking.

"What's going on Sam?"

Sam looked outside, avoided looking at Bobby. He knew he'd have to tell him, Bobby should know. Would know something's up as soon as he spaced out on him and came back screaming and panting.

"Ever since Dean died, I've been getting these dreams. At first I thought it was because of the stress of losing Dean, ya know? But now… They're too real and they're more than just dreams. I think they're Dean's memories or something."

Bobby's eyes widen, "You mean you're seeing-?"

"Hell. I'm seeing Hell. I'm feeling it, smelling it, tasting it. It calls me Dean. At first it was just at night. I'd wake up and they would be done. I'd drink, make it go away. Lately though, they hit during the day. No warning. I'll be here and then the next moment I'm there. Come back and it's been minutes but it feels like hours, days sometimes."

"That's why you wanted to know if it was possible to share memories?"

Sam nodded. "I know I'm seeing Dean. I can't control it; all I can do is sit back and watch. I feel it though. I'll come back and feel like I've been ripped open."

Bobby nodded his face deep in thought. "I'll look harder, okay. We'll figure this out. You're safe here."

Sam gave a small smile, it felt foreign on his face, "I know."

It had been a couple weeks since Sam arrived at Bobby's and Bobby had no more answers then before. Bobby didn't push Sam to talk about them. In the mornings he would have coffee out and lay a hand on his shoulder. He heard the screams but he wouldn't make Sam relieve them any more then he already did. It scared him more then he'd admit the first time Sam had a vision during the day. He was sitting there, looking through an old book when suddenly his fingers went lax and the book fell out of his hand. Bobby saw his eyes go glassy, non-blinking as they stared at some unseen horror. He got a glass of water ready and waited. Minutes passed before Sam snapped out of it with a strangled cry and he fell to his knees. His forehead had beads of sweat on it and Bobby pressed the glass of water into his hands. Sam drank greedily. He didn't say a word, just set the glass on the table and went back to reading. It shocked Bobby, realizing the fact that Sam was used to this. Bobby couldn't help but noticed though how Sam's hands shook as he turned the pages.

_The demon had him strung up in chains, both his shoulders were dislocated. It wasn't the first time hanging by metal getting whipped, but it felt brutal. Each lash sliced deeper, blood flowing freely. His back was shredded by the time the demon stopped. He swung lightly back and forth before the chains disappeared and he fell to the ground. A moment later and he was strapped back on the rack, looking up at the grinning demon. "Did you know Dean, that there are 206 bones in the human body?" He started with his toes, breaking them one by one. Moving up he took his time. If he didn't like how one broke, he would simply wave a hand, it would reset and he would start over. His voice was gone but he still screamed. His lower half was a broken mess, twisted and misshapen. He moved up, pressing down on each of his ribs until a loud crack was heard. He started on his fingers next, moving all the way up one arm before moving to the next. He reached his shoulder's squeezing with inhuman strength until they shattered. He looked down at Dean, "I think I shall do this again. I wonder what shape I can make your body tomorrow. Unless, of course you join me? Won't you join me Dean?" He opened his mouth, an answer on the tip of his tongue, closed it before it could escape then opened it again. He nodded once, "Yes." The demon smiled down at him, fondly, "My name's Alistair. We're going to have great fun Dean." _


	6. Chapter 6

_The knife was solid in his hands, the metal smooth and strangely comforting. It had been a while since he felt something this smooth, even when he was alive. He studied how the flames reflected on the surface of the blade and he turned his hand watching them dance. As soon as he said yes he was off the rack and standing here, a knife in his hand. It felt weird to have free movement, not being strapped down or strung up, hanging by his wrists. After so long off his feet he was surprisingly steady. He felt someone step up behind him before a voice close to his ear._

"_Does it feel good Dean?" The voice was low but he heard it as if he had shouted it. He didn't answer, just continued to look at the knife; the knife that was soon to be used as an instrument in torture, torture that he would inflict. He swallowed hard, he could do this. He had spent decades on the rack, he wasn't getting back on._

_Alistair snapped his fingers and a rack appeared before them, a woman strapped down. She was crying, twisting her body in her bindings to try to get away. It was useless, he knew this first hand. He turned a little, "What did she do?" Alistair shrugged, "Does it matter?" He guessed it didn't but maybe it would make this easier. _

"_Go ahead, she's all yours," he said, giving him a gentle push. He walked even closer and the woman turned her eyes on him. They widen and she began begging, shaking her head, "Please, please." Dean tightened his grip, he could do this. His hands were steady as he reached out, the knife glinting in the firelight. _

_He thought it would be harder, he thought he would be sick or disgusted by this, but when the knife touched her skin and he pressed down, drawing blood and separating skin as he slowly moved his hand, he didn't feel much. He watched as he moved the knife down, cutting a line through her chest, collarbone to navel. Blood welled up and dripped down as she screamed and he tried to shut her out. _

_After the first cut it was easier then he thought it would be. He was vaguely aware of Alistair standing just behind him, watching him as made cut after cut. The woman's screams had died a little until they were mere whimpers and he didn't know what was worse. He didn't stop until her skin was shredded, blood pooled beneath them. She should have stopped breathing long ago, or passed out from blood loss. _

_But this was hell, and there was no relief, for both of them. _

**Ok, first off I want to thank everyone who has added this story to their favorites/alerts and for those who reviewed. I love you all!**

**I know this is super short, and I'm sorry. I've been busy lately. I wanted to get something out because I'll be out of town for the next few days, but as soon as I get back I'll get another chapter out. Probably by the weekend. **


	7. Chapter 7

Sam walked into the kitchen, rubbing a shaking hand down his face. Bobby was already there, coffee on and something sizzling on the stove. He looked back at Sam, "Boy, you look like h-," he stopped suddenly, clearing his throat. "Well, you look tired Sam," he said instead, turning back quickly to grab a cup of coffee. Sam sat down at the table, accepting the cup with a nod of thanks. "Yea, rough night last night, that's all."

He didn't offer any more details and Bobby didn't ask, he never did. He wondered if he should mention the change in his dreams, but then decided not to. Bobby didn't need to know Dean was now torturing people. That he had said yes to get off the rack. That maybe Sam was just a little relieved, however selfish it was, because it meant he wouldn't have to go through anymore pain or suffering, even if it was just in dreams.

After he choked down half a plate of Bobby's breakfast, if anything just to have Bobby look less worried, he went into the bathroom and threw it back up. He didn't know how much more of this he could handle. He wished this had never started, that maybe not knowing what hell was really like, it might have made it easier to deal with that it was essentially him who sent Dean there. Even if Bobby figured this out and Sam stopped seeing hell, would it be any better? Maybe he deserved this? Maybe this was punishment for not getting Dean out of the deal?

_The man's screams echoed around him. He had seemed so tough at first, yelling threats at him, that it seemed almost satisfying to reduce him to a withering mess. The scent of burning flesh didn't bother him anymore; he was used to it by now. The knife he wielded felt like an extension of his arm and the sight of blood was as common as breathing. He didn't see the faces of those he tortured, as soon as he was done with one, another one appeared. If he didn't think of them as humans it wasn't as hard. He didn't think much at all as he sliced and diced, burned and broke, as he made those tied down scream until he would rip out their tongue or sew their mouths shut so he couldn't hear anything. _

Bobby closed the book with a long drawn out sigh, looking at Sam, who was, thankfully all there at the moment, but looking out the window. "Sam, I-," he took off his cap, rubbing a hand over his head before replacing it. "I can't find anything, at all, about what's happening to you Sam." Sam closed his eyes and turned to face Bobby. The look in his eyes when he opened them sent chills down Bobby's spine, and not much scared Bobby.

"Yea," he whispered, "I figured." The raw emotion that Bobby saw moments earlier vanished, hidden behind a wall that Sam had long ago built. "Do you think it might have anything to do with, ya know? The visions I used to get?" Bobby hadn't thought of that, "It's possible, but the visions you used to get where connected to yellow eyes and he's dead." Sam nodded, "Yea, I guess. They don't feel like visions either." And they didn't, they felt more real than any vision he had ever had.

The next couple of weeks passed slowly for Sam and he was having more waking visions than ever. It was common for Sam to come down to breakfast and halfway through Bobby would see the familiar glass eyes and unseeing gaze. After each one Sam would act as if nothing was wrong, that he hadn't just come back from hell. Bobby was worried, but he didn't know what he could do. He had literally found nothing to help stop Sam from seeing hell. Bobby had never felt so helpless.

Sam knew Bobby was worried, he didn't blame him but he also knew no matter what it wouldn't help any to tell Bobby what he saw each night. He thought it was bad being helpless each night, suffering through pain and torture, but being helpless as he watched himself inflict pain was so much worse. In his dreams he didn't feel much, but when he woke it hit him hard. He was causing all that pain, no, Dean was causing all that pain and it was Sam who was at fault. Dean went to hell for him and after all that suffering he finally gave in.

_The man had started begging right away, he knew what was coming. He ignored the pleas and cries, instead raised his hand, showing off the sharp knife. He knew how to handle a blade; he knew just the right motions to make to induce the most pain, to draw the most blood. He didn't have to be careful because he knew they would never die, not until he wanted to be finished. He always took his time, there was no need to rush this, he had forever._

Sam woke up and instantly knew something was wrong. It took a moment, looking around the sunlit room to realize he wasn't sweating or shaking or rushing into the bathroom throwing up. He didn't feel the phantom pains of hell or hear the echoes of men and women screaming in the back of his head. It felt weird; he was so used to feeling the physical side effects of his visions. He closed his eyes but no images flashed through his brain. Either he suddenly couldn't remember them anymore, or for the first time in four months, he hadn't dreamt at all.

Bobby was downstairs, a cup of coffee already waiting. He hadn't heard Sam last night, and although it was more common than not to wake up to Sam screaming there were times where he did sleep through Sam's yells. He was surprised and didn't hide his shock at seeing Sam when he came into the kitchen. He looked… rested. There were no bags under his eyes; he didn't have tremors running through him and he looked, well not good but better than he had in months.

"Sam, you look-," Bobby said, but Sam cut in. "I didn't see anything last night," he said in a soft voice.

"Nothing?"

Sam shook his head, "No, I woke up and I realized that there was nothing last night. I actually slept the whole night through. I didn't wake up screaming or covered in sweat. I've had dreams every night for the past four months, why stop now?"

"I don't know," Bobby answered truthfully. He was thankful though, he had no idea why this happened in the first place, and he had no idea why it stopped, but he was glad.

The morning passed without any visions. Sam was on edge the whole time, certain that at any minute one would hit, but none did. It had been weeks since he went more than three hours without a vision during the day. He looked thru more of Bobby's books, hoping something would come up, but even reading almost nonstop all morning, he came up with nothing.

He was outside when he heard Bobby's phone ring. He couldn't make out the words but whoever it was Bobby had threaten them. A moment later he heard the phone ring again and Bobby's voice once again sounded angry before he heard the phone slam back down. He didn't ask, Bobby had people; other hunters call him about different stuff.

It was late afternoon when he heard the car pull up. He didn't think Bobby was expecting anyone so he made sure he had holy water, silver and a shotgun handy just in case. He heard Bobby answer the door and a rough voice answer back. It sound vaguely familiar but he couldn't make out the words or hear it clearly to know.

He moved closer and when he stepped into the doorway out of Bobby's living room, he froze. His heart stopped beating and he couldn't breathe. He watched as Bobby threw holy water in his face, but he knew that nothing would happen. When Bobby attacked and he easily took the knife, cutting himself, he knew nothing would happen. This was Dean, not some trick or some supernatural creature that was pretending to be Dean.

"Dean?" he said in a small voice and both heads turned. Dean smiled, "Hey Sammy." Sam moved closer and Bobby opened his mouth to say something. Sam glanced at him, "It's okay Bobby, this is Dean." He said it with such conviction that Dean frowned, "What did you do Sam?"

Sam laughed bitterly and shook his head, "I didn't do anything." He reached Dean and soon they were hugging, squeezing to make sure the other was still there, still real. "I knew it was you because the dreams stopped."

**Thanks everyone who had read and reviewed. Only one more chapter to go and hopefully (if I'm not too busy at work) I'll have it done in the next couple of days. **


	8. Chapter 8

"Dreams? What dreams Sam?" Dean asked, stepping back from the embrace. He glanced at Bobby once but Bobby quickly looked away, he shouldn't be the one telling Dean anything.

Sam shrugged, "It's nothing. Just some nightmares I've been having." He took a deep breath, smiling a little at Dean, hoping he would just drop it for now, he just got him back. He didn't want Dean to know right now that he had witnessed hell first hand from Dean's perspective. He didn't know if Dean would want to know that.

"Sam-."

"Dean, just not now okay. You just got here. I mean…" he trailed off, before shaking his head and whispered, "how?"

"You didn't do anything Sam?" Dean asked in that big brother voice that somehow always made Sam want to tell the truth.

Sam shook his head, "No, I-I didn't do anything Dean, promise."

Dean nodded, "Okay. I believe you. Honestly, no clue. I woke up in a pine box, dug my way up and it looked like a nuke went off. I mean, the last thing I remembered was the hounds tearing at me and then nothing until I woke up this morning. I don't understand, I mean, it's like I'm brand new or something."

"Brand new?"

"No scars, nothing, well, except for this," he said, lifting up one sleeve to show Sam and Bobby the hand print that was seared onto his skin.

Bobby stepped closer, "You think that whatever pulled you out left this?"

"It makes sense, didn't have before."

Bobby looked between both brothers, "I think I know someone who can help us."

They went to a psychic, hoping to find answers. Her name was Pamela and she took one look at Sam and knew. Dean gave him that glare that said they were talking later and Sam had the decency to look ashamed. Now was not the time, they were here to find out what pulled Dean out of hell. The only thing they accomplished was getting Pamela blinded as well as a name; Castiel.

Bobby was in the other room, looking up anything he could find out about Castiel and whatever he was. Dean and Sam were sitting outside, both silent. Dean didn't need to ask Sam, because Sam knew exactly what Dean wanted to talk about. Dean waited patiently, looking at Sam, knowing something was wrong.

Sam looked away, into the vast amount of cars Bobby had. He cleared his throat, "So, um, so you don't remember anything about hell?"

"Sam, I-I, no I don't. Like I said, one minute I was a hell hound's chew toy the next I was waking up six feet under."

Sam flinched; memories of that night came rushing back in picture perfect clarity. "After you, um, after you were gone, I was messed up. I mean who wouldn't be, right?" He laughed, but it sounded bitter, even to him. "The first time I slept, I had this dream, by the time I woke up though; it was just a distant thought in the back of my head; didn't even remember it. Started drinking the next day, just so I could forget everything; so I didn't have to feel anything."

He closed his eyes, he couldn't look at Dean, not when he was about to tell him this. "The dreams just got worse, harder to shake off. I drank more, just to get rid of the images they left behind." He swallowed hard, "I thought it was because you were in hell that I was having these nightmares. I couldn't save you. I went to a crossroads, but he wouldn't deal." He felt Dean tense up beside him, but ignored it, he couldn't stop now.

"I kept drinking, getting drunk every day, not really caring. After the failed crossroads attempt, I vowed I would find Lilith, make her pay. It was stupid and reckless, I know that. I started drinking as soon I woke up, didn't stop until I passed out; I was in no shape to hunt anything. I did though, got lucky that's for sure." Dean tensed up more beside him, almost vibrating with it. Sam just continued.

"The dreams kept coming, every night. They were getting more and more vivid, more real. They were of the same thing, every night. Strapped to a rack, tortured and at the end a question, to join them and all this would stop. Only I wasn't the one in control. I started suspecting they were more than just dreams after a while. I asked Bobby to look up anything he knew about memory sharing."

Dean frowned, "Memory sharing? What's that got to do with nightmares?" Sam didn't answer, and soon realization dawned on his face. All color drained, his eyes widened and he shook his head, "Sam, no." "The demon torturing me called me Dean."

Sam didn't look at Dean, he couldn't. "About a month after Ruby showed up." "Ruby? You mean demon Ruby?" Dean asked, his voice raising a notch.

"Yea, she saved my life Dean. I was on a demon hunt, drunk and she showed up. Got me back to my room in one piece. Said she wanted to help with the hunt for Lilith. I told her I didn't want her help. She left and came back the next morning. I was sober and it hit me then that she was a demon. I was angry then, demons lie and demons torture. I was thinking of you, getting tortured by that nameless demon and suddenly I was there, just like in my dreams. I came to on my knees, Ruby shaking me. That was the first vision I had during the day. I was so mad at her, I didn't even care. I started yelling and the next thing I knew she was dead."

Sam ran a hand down his face, "I started having them during the day more, and those were the worst. They would just hit with no warning; one minute I was fine the next I was on the floor trying to forget what I just saw. Drinking didn't help anymore so I slowly stopped that. I just wanted it to end, and there was nothing I could do. I went to Bobby's, told him I was seeing hell. There was nothing he could do either. We started looking for things, but there was nothing."

Sam didn't know if he wanted to tell Dean the next part, didn't know how. How would someone tell their brother that he had said yes in hell, just to get off the rack so he could start torturing souls himself? Before Sam could say anything though Dean spoke, quiet but the words hit Sam hard.

"I said yes."

Sam's head whipped around fast, sure he heard wrong, but one look at Dean's face and he knew he hadn't. Dean's face was pale; his hands had fine tremors through them. "I do remember. Didn't at first, but when I was that gas station after waking up it came back. Don't remember every detail, mostly just pain, but I remember. Remember saying yes so it would stop. I guess you saw that too."

Sam nodded, "About a month ago they changed."

"I'm sorry Sam."

"Dean, you don't have to be sorry. It wasn't your fault."

Dean let out a harsh laugh, "It's not my fault! Sam, my whole life I tried protecting you. I failed and you died in my arms. I made that deal because you deserved to live and I- even when I was gone you still weren't safe."

Sam shook his head, "You taught me everything Dean, you did everything for me and you never failed me. I was pissed at you for making that deal, but I know why you did it. And to see what you went through for me, you didn't deserve that Dean. You of all people didn't deserve that. I'm just sorry I couldn't save you. I should have tried harder."

Dean let out a small smile, "Sam, you couldn't have done anything. The deal's on me. I don't blame you, so don't go blaming yourself."

Sam responded with a small smile of his own, "Then don't go blaming yourself for something you couldn't do anything about either."

Dean lightly punched Sam's arm, "Bitch."

"Jerk."

The silence that followed was comfortable, both brothers lost in thought. They both had a boat load of issues to work through, with hell and all, but at least they were in it together.

_A Year and Half Later_

Dean woke up with a scream on his lips, the memories of the dream still at the front of his mind.

_He was falling, so far and so fast. There was someone beside him, and someone inside him, trying to get out. The farther he fell the more he felt whoever inside of him being ripped from him, until they were two separate beings. He looked down and saw fire, reaching up towards him, calling him. He was getting closer and closer and he couldn't stop. The heat reached him and he felt his skin prickling, old memories of another hell popping up. He started screaming._

A sob broke out of him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sam had been gone less than 12 hours, falling deep inside a hole into the cold, hard earth while Dean just watched. He couldn't save his brother, could do nothing to get him out of Lucifer's cage. All he could do now was close his eyes and let the visions of Sam's hell wash over him.

THE END

**I'm finally finished. Okay, first THANKS for everyone who read, reviewed, favorite, and followed. LOVE YOU ALL. **

**Obviously the whole apocalypse still happened; I figured that the angels would still have found a way to set Lucifer free, even if Sam hadn't started drinking demon blood. It just would have gone a little differently. **


End file.
